


Winter of Our Youth

by Klavier



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Confessions, Fluff, Just an excuse to write kissing, M/M, Title From a Bastille Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavier/pseuds/Klavier
Summary: Mingyu almost says, "Don't go."
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 36
Kudos: 150
Collections: Challenge 1: Kidult





	Winter of Our Youth

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING: reference to past suicidal ideation.
> 
> Thank you mods for hosting this challenge, and thank you Bastille for writing excellent songs about the sun setting on childhood. Hope you enjoy!

Mingyu almost says  _ don’t go _ .

By now the snow is thick enough to cause problems on the road. It simply wouldn’t be safe for Minghao to drive home like this, in the dark, eyes at half-mast. But he’s slouching up from the floor of Mingyu’s bedroom already. 

“Wait. One more.” Mingyu catches his hand and holds. Love leaks from his knuckles, calcifies their skin together. “Please.”

Minghao softens and resettles on the carpet. In the sharp white candlelight coming from the mantle, he looks at once like himself now and himself ten years ago when they first met. A full-cheeked Minghao superimposed over this thinner, more serious Minghao. What four years of university has done to them both is a crime.

“Okay,” Minghao says. “Um… If I say this one, you can’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t. I told you about my godawful crush on Professor Kim, it can’t be more embarrassing than that.”

“This confession is different.”

Mingyu gives him an encouraging nod. “That’s fine.”

Minghao’s tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip. He looks intently at the candles. “Do you remember the day we met?”

“Duh.”

“I mean, the weather.”

Considering it was an otherwise normal day of middle school... “Oh. Well, no.”

“It was snowing. Like this.” Minghao does not hesitate. “It was my first time seeing snow and I was upset. I’d just moved here, I hated everything, the snow wasn’t special. So I made a resolution—wrote a note—that I’d run away after school. To Banpo bridge.”

Mingyu has the horrible urge to laugh. He doesn’t, because he’s starting to feel sick.

Minghao briefly looks at Mingyu, then back at the candles. He continues, “You happened to sit with me at lunch and asked to borrow my chemistry homework. So I couldn’t run away, because then you’d fail chemistry and I’d feel bad. You’re kinda the only reason I didn’t do something stupid that day.”

“You—” A truck has just driven over Mingyu’s lungs. “What?”

This confession colors their friendship with an intensity Mingyu thought was one-sided. Minghao has always been his hearth, through awkward pimply teenagehood into their budding and ambitious adult lives, but the reverse was never true. Or so he thought. 

Minghao misunderstands his reaction. “It was a long time ago,” he says quickly. “Obviously I didn’t—I wouldn’t do anything like that now.”

“Yeah, of course, I just.” Kaleidoscope emotions are passing through Mingyu too fast to see. “Didn’t know you felt that way at all. Did I really have that strong of an impression?”

“In my defense, you were the only one who didn’t laugh at my accent. I was easy prey.”

Mingyu laughs now in disbelief. He almost wishes he didn’t know. How their memories differ from the same moment—he can only recall thinking the new kid looked edgy in torn-up sneakers and three layers of t-shirts, thinking  _ oh cute, pay attention to me! _

“I feel like...” Whatever’s about to come out of his mouth is spur of the moment. What he feels is the whole winter sky in his chest. “I should hug you.”

Naturally Minghao rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to. Seriously, it's embarrassing.”

But he doesn’t resist. Mingyu scoots closer. They fold together easily, though for all their years of friendship, they don’t often do  _ this _ . Minghao smells faintly like coffee, like laundry detergent. Like lightning if it were person-shaped.

The what-ifs and could-have-beens stick like fishbones in Mingyu’s throat. He wants to cough up every confession he’s choked down since their first meeting. He wants to ruin their friendship right here and now, on the eve of their college graduation. 

Mingyu pulls back. An unusual intensity is resting on Minghao’s face. Like a deep sea diver staring across the abyssal plain into nothingness, eternity. His brow furrows ever so slightly.

“Tomorrow is not a goodbye,” Minghao says firmly. “But, like. Just in case it is. I have one more confession.”

“What?”

Minghao twists at the waist so their faces are aligned. His proximity is shocking, irises spilled wide. Mingyu wonders if this will hurt, later, in retrospect.

He meets Minghao halfway anyway. Tentative hands cup his jaw. The first kiss is timid and Minghao quickly draws back, only to slide one hand to the nape of Mingyu’s neck, which he squeezes gently when he guides their mouths back together.

It’s awful, how wonderful this is. Mingyu can’t decide where to put his hands first—shoulders for balance, waist for heat, cheeks for intimacy. He wants everything. Leaning into the kiss, he finds a better angle and opens his mouth. Maybe that’s too soon, too desperate, but he’s been  _ so good _ for  _ so long _ .

Minghao inhales sharply and presses closer. He does kissing like he does dancing, with a concentrated and sensual worship. His mouth is bold, his hair begging to be pulled. Mingyu’s under a tidal wave and his thighs tremble from the effort of holding himself back.

Whatever noise he makes when Minghao sucks tenderly at his bottom lip, he’s not responsible for. A hand flails for the comforting tuck of Minghao’s waist, stays there. He feels frantic and lovestruck.

Minghao is the one to draw back. His throat bobs. “Mingyu…”

“Don’t go,” is what Mingyu says. “Say my name like that again.”

“Mingyu.” A ferocious smile sparks across Minghao’s face, an unfamiliar expression, like he’s been kissed brand new. “Mingyu, Mingyu.”

Mingyu pulls him closer by the vulnerable crick of his elbow. “My turn. You wanna hear a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always thought you’re amazing.”

Minghao ducks his head with stuttered laughter. “Shut up. Shut up, you’re so cheesy.”

Mingyu doesn’t care. A thousand memories of love are linking them like a spiderweb, and he already knows he can’t shake this one off. He’s tried. Hopefully he doesn’t need to anymore.

This time it’s a whisper. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t.” Minghao gathers him into a kiss again, again, again, a smile alight in his eyes. “I won’t.”


End file.
